Tough Luck
by Greentigerr
Summary: My version of how Ironhide and Chromia met, as two young soldiers in training on Cybertron. IHxC fluff.


"Sightedge, Quicksilver, Wipeout, Elita," The drill sergeant proceeded with agonizing slowness through the list of bots who had passed the Advanced Firearms Training entry examination," Sabre, Solarflare, Chromia, Slipstream." Report to target range C immediately after inspection tomorrow. Dismissed!"

That night, Elita, Chromia, and Arcee whispered quietly to one another, their glowing optics illuminating the shared quarters.

"You're lucky. I'd be scared to be in Advanced. Congratulations, though." Arcee began.

"Not lucky, we just know how to use guns." Chromia replied. "Why would you be scared?"

"I am a little nervous," admitted Elita.

"All the toughest mechs are in Advanced too." Arcee added.

"Why would that matter?" Chromia asked, completely missing the drift of the conversation.

"Because, you know…"

"I don't think she'll ever get the point. Chromia would marry her gun before falling for a mech." Elita commented.

"Hey! I'm not recharging yet, you know!" Reaching over to the next bunk, she whacked her friend's arm. "Might as well, if this is all you're talking about though. Just tell me which ones not to use for target practice."

"Any ideas?" Elita turned to Arcee.

"Uhh… no?"

"Are you sure?"

"Too late, Chromia won't know to spare him." Arcee nodded towards Chromia, already in recharge and sprawled across the bunk so her feet hung off the side.

Elita came out of recharge slowly, opening her optics and sitting up. She expected to find Chromia already awake, anticipating their first Advanced Firearms class. Instead, the blue femme was hanging sideways off her bunk, soundly recharging, having forgotten to set a timer for waking up.

"Aw, slag!" Elita muttered. She'd had the experience of waking Chromia up before.

Hoping to get lucky, she waited a few minutes, then called her name. "Chromia, wake up!" No response.

Sliding off her own bunk, Elita crossed the small room and tapped her friend. Hitting harder, she shouted, "Chromia, get up already! Guns, rifles, bombs, explosions, advanced class!" The blue femme still remained motionless.

"That's it. Wake up, you pit-slagging lump of scrap metal!" Elita aimed a powerful kick at Chromia's head, which due to her awkward recharge position was almost on the floor. If the commotion hadn't already woken Arcee, the loud metallic clang when Elita's foot connected would have sufficed.

Chromia mumbled something that sounded like, "justaminute,slaggit!" then fell off the recharge bunk . As she hit the floor, she rolled backwards, one foot kicking Elita's legs out from under her.

"Totally intended," Chromia commented as she stood up smoothly. Yanking Elita back to a standing position, she added, "What the frag was that for, though?"

"Not setting your alarm. Clean up and get going or we're gonna be late for inspection."

"Yes, ma'am," Chromia responded jokingly.

Safely out of the way of any kicks but hardly able to suppress her laughter, Arcee watched from her own bunk.

"I hope this isn't just target shooting the whole time," Chromia muttered.

"I thought you liked shooting stuff!" Elita replied. "Are you nervous?"

"Why would I be nervous?"

"You heard what Arcee said…"

"Nope, the _not caring_ knocked me into recharge."

"You're right, I'm being silly. But you were awake!"

As they approached the shooting range, a row of unfamiliar mechs stared at the two newcomers.

"Where are the others from Intermediate?" Elita asked her friend quietly.

"Late for being early, I guess. Did these guys take a space bridge here or something?"

"Their inspection was probably earlier."

"Sucks for them! Tired mechs can't aim."

The two femmes found a free space in the line. Elita eyed the bulky silver mech next to her, and he stared back. He didn't appear friendly, she decided. Chromia seemed to have jumped to this conclusion about the black-armored mech on the other side of her.

"What's your problem? Don't you know it's not polite to stare?" she challenged, glaring at him.

"Never said I was polite. What are you doing here?" he replied, matching Chromia's confrontational tone perfectly with his deeper, gruffer voice.

"Femmes got lost on their way to the polish and wax store?" added the mech behind him, laughing derisively.

"We're in this class." Elita responded calmly.

Chromia's optics narrowed. "Do we look lost?" She was almost shouting at the mech.

"Never met a femme who wasn't," the silver mech behind Elita added.

"Calm down, Chromia. Just ignore them." Elita put her hand on her friend's shoulder.

"Your spark's gonna be lost…" Chromia fumed. Elita pulled Chromia's hand off her gun and pushed the blue femme back.

"Attention, mechs… and femmes" the instructor ordered from behind the line. "Kindly welcome the new victims from Intermediate before they see what this class is about. My message to them is to get with the program or get their afts kicked back to beginner. Good luck. Ready your weapons."

Chromia laughed quietly.

"Seriously, what's wrong with her?" asked the mech next to Elita.

"I heard that. Shut your vocal processors or I'll shut them for you." Chromia replied before Elita could comment.

Motioning to the targets set out, the instructor directed, "First, let's see how good the newbies think they are. Newcomers only, step forward and fire when ready."

Chromia immediately stepped forward, sighted, and shot a perfect bullseye. Elita was slower, carefully aiming, and got the same result. Looking down the line, they saw the others from their group had made it in time. Most demonstrated good aim.

"If that was the enemy, would one round be enough to stop them? Hopefully not, or that's one wimpy enemy. Keep firing."

Grinning, Chromia obeyed. "I think I like this class."

Together, the two femmes' blasts had almost broken through the center of the target by the time they were ordered to stop.

"Form a staggered line, this is a timed trial. Fifty drones. Don't shoot each other. "

Elita and the black mech stepped back into position. Several of the mechs from Intermediate looked nervous.

As the drones came onto the target field, the instructor ordered, "Hold your fire… acquire a target… Fire!"

Many of the mechs in the front row flinched involuntarily as shots flew from behind them.

"Don't flinch; you'll get your head shot off. Try again!"

Chromia stayed still, having practiced this with Elita. She trusted her friend not to accidentally shoot her in the shoulder, but the black mech's shots seemed to be passing a little close for comfort.

"Alright, finish them off!"

The drones were quickly decimated under the heavy fire. When their previous line reformed, Chromia took the opportunity to challenge the mech.

"Your aim is fragged. Try to shoot around me, not at me next time!"

"My aim is better than yours. Maybe this is just too dangerous for femmes, if you're scared," he replied calmly.

"Sure it's dangerous. Watch out." Chromia moved the muzzle of her gun to the right, towards the offending mech.

Unconcerned, the mech continued to taunt Chromia. "Weakling. I could snap your armor with one shot."

"That's enough! Wanna try?" Spinning to face him, she aimed her gun at the center of his chest, her finger on the trigger. The mech was not caught off guard for long, quickly swinging his own gun to point back at Chromia. Her response to finding herself looking down the barrel of his gun was to step forward, making the mech lean away. The two glared at each other, optics narrowed and stances tense.

"Chromia! Stop it!" Elita tried to pull the furious blue femme away by the arm. Without looking away, Chromia yanked her arm out of Elita's grasp and planted it firmly back on her hip.

"Make him stop first."

"You wouldn't shoot a femme, would you, Ironhide?" an orange mech behind him asked.

"Come on, she's bluffing. It's not like she could actually hurt you," another added.

When she heard this, the blue femme treated that mech to a furious glare and shoved her gun up against Ironhide's chest armor. The force of the blow surprised him, knocking him back a step.

Some of the mechs laughed. Suddenly, a silence fell on everyone nearby. The instructor had noticed the shouting and was coming over.

Before Ironhide could react, he was shoved back again. The femme ducked under his gun and shot at the target, as if that was what she had intended to do the entire time.

"Is there a problem here?" the instructor asked, looking directly at the stunned Ironhide.

"No, Sir." Lowering his gun, the black mech returned to his place in the line.

When he shot an angry glance at the femme, she growled, "next time you call me weak, I _will_ shoot you."

(later that day)

"On the first day, Chromia, the first day of Advanced class and you already made about 5 enemies!"

"It's not my fault if they're all chauvinist mechs who can't stand to be beaten by a femme!"

"Greeting someone with 'what's your problem' really doesn't help you make friends either."

"That mech was just… aaugh. Who does he think he is, anyway?"

"Ironhide, you got your aft kicked!"

"Would you shut up already?" Ironhide punched Blackout on the shoulder.

As he recovered, another mech took up the taunt.

"How on Cybertron can a femme beat you at fighting?"

"She is totally, out-of-her-processor crazy. She's asking to be shot in the face."

"I think whoever does that is gonna get the same in return," Ironhide responded. The memory of the femme's furious blue optics wouldn't leave his processors.

"Are you scared of her? Oh, the great Ironhide, beaten up by a little femme!" In response, Ironhide tackled the mech and easily wrestled him to the ground, releasing him after some well-earned punishment.

"You shoulda done that to her. Wouldn't be so cocky after a couple of punches."

Secretly, Ironhide doubted if that would work. The way the femme had thrown him off balance so easily was unnerving compared to every other fight he'd been in. He was grateful when Blackout saved him from admitting this.

"You idiot. You can't tackle and beat up a femme. They're too fragile. Really, she would never have shot 'Hide. "

For the third time, Ironhide doubted his friends' claims. Was he really the only one to see how she seemed to enjoy the loud reports of guns when everyone else flinched?

"We've been talking about one femme for an hour. We'll just put her in her place tomorrow. There's going to be a competition, with hands-on fighting!"

"Sounds fun!"

A smaller green mech immediately took a swing at Blackout.

"What was that for, you little slagger?"

"Practice!"


End file.
